


Quiet, Unquieted

by ananhilation



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, Adam Parrish is Bad at Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Ronan Lynch Being an Asshole, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 15:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ananhilation/pseuds/ananhilation
Summary: Instead, he’s fixated on the way Adam’s skin seemed to gleam under the moon, the freckles around his nose, and that beautiful, beautiful, mouth. Ronan allows himself an infinitesimal moment to imagine what it could do to him.All Adam can think of was, if the both of them would crane their necks, just a little, they’d be kissing. The thought electrifies Adam and he’s now sitting a little straighter, a little closer to Ronan.Adam doesn’t know what it is about Ronan that had given him such a sexual awakening. Maybe it’s the broad shoulders curving into a narrow waist, or the smile with a glittering dark edge, or maybe it’s just… Ronan.Because there had never been any other boys. It had always just been Ronan.The thought now occurs to Adam that he should probably say something before it gets awkward, but Ronan’s a step ahead of him when he says, “I’ll leave.”“Stay.” The word flies out of Adam’s mouth before he had the time to comprehend what it would mean.





	Quiet, Unquieted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatcaniwriteinthis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcaniwriteinthis/gifts).



> Ronan and Adam just being softe bois in love is forever my aesthetic

Ronan doesn’t know why he does it.

  
The mystery of it doesn’t stop him though.

  
Because, at this point, it isn’t even a habit, it’s a reflex to pick up Adam from Boyd’s at 6, take him back to his apartment above St. Agnes and chill on his bed while he did homework, or whatever it was that Adam did (mostly homework).  
Not that Ronan notices, of course.

  
No, he’s too busy thinking about Adam’s hands, hands that could grab him by the face to kiss him, or Adam’s hair, that he imagines tugging at.  
But most of all, he thinks about Adam’s mouth.

  
That infernal mouth, making all sorts of sinful sounds under Ronan’s ministrations, or maybe Adam’s breath, hot against Ronan’s ear as he murmurs shameless truths, that Henrietta drawl slipping out—  
_God,_ the thought alone could finish him off.

  
But Adam’s bed isn’t the only place he thinks about these things. Not by a long shot, no.  
He thinks about these things every night, with a hand down his pants, and a cloak of shame for company.

  
But only some nights end there.  
On other evenings, Ronan picks him up, drops him off, and goes out drinking or racing, usually both.  
Eventually the high wears off and Ronan sobers up to find himself in St. Agnes’ parking lot. His legs itch to climb up the familiar stairs, but he never obliges them. Never dared to.  
Until today.

  
“Jesus Christ, Ronan.” Adam undoes the chain to let him in. “What the hell did you do?”

“I went racing.” Ronan mumbles.

“Does Gansey know?” Adam asks, despite knowing full well that  _no, Gansey does not know._

Ronan does not answer, still lingering in the doorway, suddenly uncertain. Maybe he should’ve remained in the car like he had several times before his drunken brain had decided that he had a death wish.  
“Sit down Ronan.” Adam says.

  
As he does, Ronan wonders what had been different enough to make him actually come up here this time.  
And then it hits him: he hadn’t sobered up in the time it took him to get here.  
It’s a sobering thought.

“You look like you died but came back out of spite.” Adam remarks, sweeping a slow gaze over him.  
With some creativity, Ronan briefly imagines a little heat and desire in that gaze.  
He'll be getting off to  _that_ for months.

Adam then squints, eyes snagging on something in Ronan’s appearance.

“Are you drunk?” Adam sounds outraged.

Ronan doesn’t answer, but Adam can’t tell if it’s confirmation or denial.

Adam crouches down in front of Ronan, bringing his face unnervingly close. He releases a breath, warm against Ronan’s lips when he says, “Blow.”

Ronan can’t help but notice how especially provocative Adam’s mouth looked when he’d said that.

Ronan holds his breath, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he might somehow end up kissing Adam, and the consequences of that are really not something Ronan’s equipped to deal with at the moment.

Adam straightens up, shaking his head in something akin to disappointment, but not quite. He knows this lack of response had definitely been confirmation. “I’m calling Gansey.”

“Parish, please do not call Gansey.” Ronan sounds tired. “I’ll go now, maybe even to Monmouth. I’ll leave this very second.” He’s rambling—probably from lack of sleep.

But both of them know that Ronan would not go to Monmouth Manufacturing. He would go to the Barns and do something stupid, Adam knew it.  
“You will do no such thing, Ronan, sit your ass back down on that chair. I refuse to let you drive when you’re like this.” Adam says adamantly. He sighs, runs a hand over his hair and comes to a decision. “I’m going to get started on my homework and you can do whatever you want, and when I’m done, I’ll drive you to Monmouth myself. Okay?” Adam looks for affirmation.  
_No, let me go before I kiss you_.  
“Okay.”

And so, Ronan stretches out on Adam’s single cot, thinking about things that he can’t think about, things he  _can't stop thinking about_.  
As he lays there, Ronan snatches a glance at Adam, shoulders hunched and head hung, brows furrowed, no doubt as his pen scrawls along the paper, and thinks about how easy it would be to run a hand down his back.

Eventually, though, Ronan falls asleep.  
He hadn’t meant to, by any chance, but it had just happened.  
So, imagine Adam’s surprise when he turns around, having finished his homework, to find Ronan Lynch spread-eagled on his bed.  
He’s unsure how to react.  
On the one hand, it’s good that Ronan’s getting some rest, God knows how long he spends speeding every day, but on the other hand, Adam doesn’t know where he’ll be sleeping tonight.  
He wants to be able to consider sidling up with Ronan in the same bed, but there was no telling how Ronan would react.  
Still, it was worth asking.  
Adam is just about to shake Ronan awake when he notices the moonlight catching his face. He looks so calm and relaxed, the hardness in his features all but gone, and Adam suddenly doesn’t want to wake him.  
He does want to touch him, though, so very badly, but he knows that could never happen.

Adam compromises. He ghosts a hand across Ronan shoulders, never touching, lithely skimming through air as he traces the hard muscle.  
Ronan makes a noncommittal grunt, and Adam’s blood chills in his veins as his hand freezes a mere quarter-inch above his neck.  
Seconds tick by and when Ronan’s breathing still hadn’t evened out, Adam drops to the floor. Waking Ronan is not an option.  
He had just settled in when he hears a rustling from above. He props himself up on his elbows, just as Ronan leans over the bed.

“Hey Parrish, thanks for letting me crash here, I’m sorry I fell asleep, but I’ll go now. This won’t happen again. I promise.” Ronan says—or, wanted to say.  
Instead, he’s fixated on the way Adam’s skin seemed to gleam under the moon, the freckles around his nose, and that beautiful, beautiful, mouth. Ronan allows himself an infinitesimal moment to imagine what it could do to him.  
All Adam can think of was, if the both of them would crane their necks, just a little, they’d be kissing. The thought electrifies Adam and he’s now sitting a little straighter, a little closer to Ronan.  
Adam doesn’t know what it is about Ronan that had given him such a sexual awakening. Maybe it’s the broad shoulders curving into a narrow waist, or the smile with a glittering dark edge, or maybe it’s just… Ronan.  
Because there had never been any other boys. It had always just been Ronan.

The thought now occurs to Adam that he should probably say something before it gets awkward, but Ronan’s a step ahead of him when he says, “I’ll leave.”  
“Stay.” The word flies out of Adam’s mouth before he had the time to comprehend what it would mean.  
But he makes no attempt to take it back as he rambles on, “It’s late and you’re probably going to do something stupid.” He waits a beat. It’s risky. “Please stay.” His voice is small, almost pleading.  
Ronan pretends to consider this. Truth be told, he’s already planning on sneaking out once Adam is asleep.  
“Okay,” he concedes. “I’ll take the floor.”  
“Yeah, no, scoot over.” Adam pulls himself upright just enough to gracefully slide under the covers. Ronan’s breath whooshes out of him as he tenses, and Adam thinks he’s crossed a line. He makes to move out of the bed and back onto the floor, but Ronan’s arm loops around his waist and holds him down against him.  
Adam eases up and smiles to himself as he rests his own arm above Ronan.  
He would let himself have this.  
Just this once, he would let himself have something he’s wanted.  
Just this once.

 

  
  
Ronan wakes up to a mouthful of hair.  
Upon further observation, Ronan discovers that Adam’s shirt had ridden up and that he is touching bare skin.  
He tries to get off the bed, but Adam still asleep, pushes back until Ronan is plastered to the wall.  
Ronan steals a glance at Adam’s face, before actually, truly, staring.  
The sunlight filtering through the window highlights his face, soft features forced to grow beyond their years. There’s a slight furrow to his eyebrows, as if he’s perpetually worrying about something, and a smattering of freckles across his nose, making him look irresistibly adorable.  
Ronan refuses to look at his lips.  
Looking at them would mean daydreaming about kissing them later, and that is not something Ronan could handle. Though, it’s what he does anyway.  
For someone who’d never kissed anyone before, Ronan daydreamt about kissing Adam a lot.  
Whatever.  
He should go.  
Leave a note, maybe.

  
  
When Adam wakes up, it feels like the sun is looking him dead in the eye and telling him to fuck off. It’s a Sunday and he doesn’t have any plans, except maybe head down to Monmouth and chill with Gansey.  
He decides to clean the room, organize his notes and get some studying down when his eyes snag on something tapped to the dresser. It was a note that said:

_Thanks, ~~Ad~~ Parrish_

Adam’s heart goes  _tha-thump_  in his chest.  
Ronan had nearly called him ‘Adam’.

Adam’s entire body tingles with this knowledge coursing through him, and he rolls onto his back before feeling something press into his shoulder.  
He awkwardly bends an arm under himself to grab whatever it was, but fumbles twice before actually encasing it in the palm of his hand. He opens his fist, and can’t help an exuberant smile as he sees one of Ronan’s leather bands, further proof that Ronan hadn’t just been a dream.

Though, if it had been a dream, Adam didn’t think Ronan would have been wearing many clothes.Or any clothes, for that matter.

Adam gets up to take a shower once he was done fantasizing about Ronan’s mouth—God, that cold, cruel, tantalizing mouth—and gets dressed, before thinking about Ronan again.  
It’s truly pathetic, how long he could (or couldn’t) last.

He looks to see if there’s anything he can have for breakfast before deciding to go grocery shopping, slipping Ronan’s band onto his wrist without a second thought.  
He’s halfway out the compound when he notices a familiar BMW parked in the lot.  
Had Ronan left without his car? Was there something wrong with it?  
Or had Ronan not left at all?

Adam might not know if he could afford his grocery list, but what he does know is that he absolutely cannot afford to pursue that train of thought.  
He lets it go.  
He walks to the store, and he’s just wheeled out a cart for himself when he hears a familiar voice. He makes his way over to the aisle it’s coming from and sees the weirdest thing ever.  
Well, he thinks weird but what he actually means is _fucking strange_.  
Adam is sure he’s woken up in a different universe, because that is the only way he can explain Mr. Gray and Gwenllian, out together, grocery shopping.

He’s attempting to make it look like he was never there to begin with when he catches Gwenllian’s eye.  
“Hey, magician boy! Tell this man what a delicacy nacho chips are with whipped cream and maple syrup.” she shrieks.  
Adam has no clue what to do, but he quickly regains his composure. “Pretty sure they’re not a delicacy, Gwen. I think you mean waffles.” Adam sounds uncertain.  
“’Course not. I like waffles with habanero and guacamole.” She thumbs a box of Fruit Loops.  
Adam did not want to question her questionable choices of nutrition.  
He instead turns to Mr. Gray and says, “You are truly a man of varied interests and infinite patience.”  
He looks disgruntled. “I’m only doing this for Maura.”  
“Nonsense!” Gwenllian proclaims. “You adore my presence.”  
Mr. Gray says nothing, his silence left open for interpretation.  
Sensing that there’s nothing left to say, Adam awkwardly shuffles past them, buying eggs and milk and then heading back to St. Agnes.

He’s just letting himself in when the chime of a bell makes him look up, just in time to see Ronan and Matthew, roughhousing with each other.  
Church.  
Of course.  
But what particularly catches Adam’s eye is Ronan’s outfit.  
He’s wearing a suit.  
A suit that, might Adam point out, looks like a second skin, especially around the ass and thighs area.  
Jesus, he needs to shower again.  
Ronan choses that auspicious second to look Adam’s way.

 _Fuck_ , Ronan couldn’t breathe.  
Adam looks flushed and winded, and also vaguely horrified that he’d run into him.  
Ronan supposes he looked the same.

He barely acknowledges Declan’s and Matthew’s goodbyes, more interested in why Adam is coming from the entrance.  
Where is he coming from?                                                                                                                                                                                            Ronan makes a questioning gesture, as if to ask.  
As if in reply, Adam holds up his hand.  
There’s a part of Ronan that knows Adam means groceries, but the rest of him is fixated on the hand itself.

Or more specifically, the wrist.  
Because, wrapped around that mesmerizing wrist is a frayed, old, dark leather band.  
Even more specifically, Ronan’s own frayed, old, dark leather band—the kind he likes to chew on sometimes mostly when he was nervous, a feeling he encounters mostly around Adam.                                                                                                                                                                            If his armbands looked that good on Adam, Ronan could only imagine what the sight of Adam in his clothes would do to him.  
The thought makes Ronan thrum head to toe, and he’s so hard that he’s concerned his unnecessarily tight trousers might rip. He breathes deeply before making his way to Adam.

“I’m heading to Monmouth, wanna come with?”  
“Yes actually, was planning to head there myself in a few.” Adam sounds nonchalant enough, but he is struggling to keep his cool.  
“You should maybe drop those off upstairs, I can wait.” Ronan offers and Adam hesitates a split second before he nods.  
Adam deposits the bag on the counter before leaning against the door to catch his breath. The promise of being in a small confined space Ronan makes him flustered, nervous, and, dare he say it, excited.  
He contemplates showering for just a second before sprinting downstairs, and he knows Ronan said he’d wait but what if…  
What if he just leaves?  
He wouldn’t.

 

He hadn’t.  
Ronan has been leaning against the BMW, trying to recollect his bearings but when Adam finally appears, his stomach swoops, any attempts to collect his bearings is entirely abandoned.  
Ronan walks over to the other side to open the door for Adam, and Adam can’t help but smile giddily at that.  
He’s about to close the door, but then he’s holding it open and crouching down to Adam’s eye level.

“Do you-” he starts. “Would you mind holding my blazer?”  
He sounded almost shy. Adam muses to himself.  
“Sure.” He nods.  
Ronan takes it off, and—  
_Holy fucking shit, were his shoulders this broad a second ago ?_  
Adam honestly cannot tell.

The drive is silent for the most part, Ronan's shitty EDM pulsing on low volume.  
They pull into Monmouth, and Adam has to ask, simply because he cannot leave well enough alone, “Will you still come by?”  
“Ronan looks a little taken aback. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”  
“I dunno, maybe cause we’re even ? Now that…” Adam trails off.  
“What—” Ronan starts. “—the fuck do you mean?”  
“Well since you slept at mine, and you gave me a ride and all, we’re even…?” Adam doesn’t sound or look very sure.

It might sound highly unlikely, but Ronan looks flabbergasted.  
“I’m—Ada—Parish, I— _shit_.” Ronan’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “Parrish, I don’t do stuff for you because I expect something in return. Gansey doesn’t either. We do it because we care about you.”  
Adam doesn’t really look like he believes it. “Why would you do that?”  
“Because—” Ronan makes a frustrated noise. “You’re a nice person, okay? And shitty things happen to you, even though you don’t deserve them. But you still power through and you’re still the same. You’re still Adam Parrish. It’s why Gansey loves you. Why Blue loves you. Why Noah loves you. Why I’m in love with—”

You.  
It hangs unsaid.  
Ronan looks terrified for a brief moment, before he rushes out the car, slamming the door and walking too fast.  
He doesn’t acknowledge Blue, Cheng, Gansey, or Noah as he barges into his room, the door colliding with the frame in a resounding crash and Chainsaw’s familiar “Kerah!”  
  
Adam is a little dazed he sits in the BMW, engine still running, Ronan’s blazer in his lap, Ronan’s leather band on his wrist, Ronan’s words weighing on his mind, the magnitude of them slowly sinking in, including that of those unsaid.  
Ronan Lynch loves him.  
Ronan Lynch is in love with him.  
It’s a heady rush, and while Ronan may not have actually said it out loud, the implication is still there.  
But then Adam remembers how Ronan had reacted and all ideas of waltzing in there like a hero and pinning him against a wall evaporated.

Instead, Adam turns off the engine and slides the key into the blazer’s pocket and before making his way upstairs.  
Gansey, Noah, Blue, and Cheng appear to be in the middle of something when Adam walks in.  
“Um,” Adam begins. “What’re y’all doing?”  
“We,” Noah says through a mouthful of dry cereal. “are assembling a ukulele for our lovely Ms. Blue Sargent.”  
Just then, Gansey yells, “Cheng, where’s the glue?”  
Cheng flippantly yells back. “It’s all over, Ganseyboy.”  
“That,”—Gansey sounds anguished— “is ridiculous. I literally bought it yesterday. How?”  
Annoying as ever, Cheng replies, “No glue, Gansey.”  
Adam takes a moment to appreciate the pun.  
Then he remembers why he was there. “Where’s Ronan?” he asks.  
“In there,” Blue points to his room with her thumb.  
“Thanks.” Adam pushes past her and knocks on Ronan’s door.  
  
Adam steps inside. “Ronan, it’s me.”  
“Go away, Parrish.” Ronan says in barely more than a grunt.  
“Why?” Adam asks, sounding profoundly stupid.  
_Because I love you_. “Because I hate you.”  
“That’s okay.” Adam breathes. “How much?”  
“Do not insult an emotion by attempting to quantify it.” Ronan snaps.  
Adam knows he should’ve left Ronan’s things on a chair, but he knows, even as he considers it, that he won't. Instead, he drapes the blazer on a hanger and hangs it up. He doesn't want to return the armband, he knows he should, but he just doesn't.

He doesn't.  
He’s almost going to open the door when Ronan’s voice comes. “Thanks, Adam.”  
He doesn’t even correct himself or backtrack. He just lets it slip off his tongue.  
It’s suddenly all Adam could think about, Ronan saying Adam, _Adam_ , _**Adam**_.  
And then he’s turning around walking to where Ronan is sprawled, sitting on the floor and resting his chin on the mattress.  
He then lowly trails his hand along Ronan’s arm before entangling Ronan’s fingers with his own.

Ronan goes very still. “What the fuck are you doing Parrish?”  
“I’m—” Adam swallows. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m—I’m—” A harsh exhale. “I’m in love with you too.  
“Like fuck you are.” Despite himself, Ronan feels hope poke through confusion.  
“No, I’m—really, Ronan, you think I—” Adam stammers. “Fuck, how do I prove it to you that I’m really—shit—”

In a split second, Adam grabs Ronan by the collar and kisses him.  
Ronan is flying. He’s soaring, he’s drowning, and he feels alive, _alive_ , _**alive**_.  
His heart is pounding so hard, so fast and it feels like racing with Pig, a line of coke down a Mitsubishi, though Ronan doubts he’ll ever need that again. Not when Adam would kiss him like this. He feels his eyes go wet, and Adam's mouth on him feels  _so good,_ and he thinks about the infinite times he's thought about this happening, but none even come close to the real thing.  
Then he’s pulling away and Ronan instinctively chases after him, but he’s actually just climbing onto the bed, and he looks like he’s about to kiss him but then he—

“Ro, baby, are you crying?”  
The ' _baby_ _'_ doesn't go unnoticed by Ronan, but he manages to choke out, "Fuck you."  
“That’s the idea, yes.” Adam drawls, the Henrietta accent rolling off his tongue, and he never thought Ronan Lynch would ever whimper but stranger things have been known to happen.

Then their mouths are meeting, shirts are coming off, hands and mouths moving freely across skin, but then—  
“Kerah!”  
Ronan sighs.  
“Fuck off, Chainsaw.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos, comments, and join me on my tumblr @herimperialpunniness


End file.
